590 Miles
by uhpockuhlipz
Summary: There are 590 miles between Lima and New York, but it feels like a thousand…


It is roughly five hundred and ninety miles from Lima, Ohio to New York City. Give or take a few more when you account for where in Lima Brittany is and where in New York Santana is. She studies google maps with a frown curving her lips downward, fingers idly tapping against her desk's surface as she contemplates her lack of money and lack of car. She wants so badly to span the distance, but it looks kind of impossible right now and Santana has never been so upset in her life. The fact is, she misses Brittany. The place in her heart where the other girl resides - namely, her whole heart - aches like a cavity without her filling it up with her proximity. Brittany is back in Lima, five hundred and ninety miles away, and Santana can hardly stand it.

As if reading her sadness and desperation, the blonde girl sends a text and Santana's phone vibrates with the familiar ringtone, her dark, damp eyes shifting slowly over to the device where it sits beside her hand on the desk. Though she knows it's from Brittany, it takes effort to force herself to read it. She is afraid that doing so will only make it hurt more and it's tempting to ignore it. At least until her emotions are back under control. But it's Brittany, and so she loses the battle and reaches out, sliding a thumb across her screen until the words pop up in a gray bubble: _check ur email! (((: ily xoxoxoxoxo, britt 3_

So she does and soon she finds the message from Brittany titled simply "open me!" So she does, surprised to find a video of her girlfriend that quickly opens up onto her iTunes so that her beautiful face fills the screen. It only makes Santana's eyes sting more, but she's smiling now and willingly taps the play button to see what message the other girl had left for her. As soon as she does, Brittany's voice floods her ears, sweet and warm and silly. She's sitting at her desk, spinning back and forth in her desk chair with her knees drawn up to her chest. "Hi, San!" she chirps and Santana laughs, whispering "hi, baby," in return even though it is a video and not skype. "I was missing you today at school so I figured I'd make you a video to tell you how much I miss you and what's been on my mind since you left a couple months ago. Hint: it's you. You're like… everything on my mind, San." Her smile fades slightly, softens from an excited grin into an expression of absolute adoration. "You're my everything and I love you and miss you so so much. But you know I'm not really the best with words soooo…" She takes a deep breath, her legs dropping to the ground as she bends down, returning with a guitar a second later. "I've been working on something for you."

Santana stares at her girlfriend through the tiny screen, watches as she bites her lower lip and starts to pluck the first few chords of a familiar tune. She's concentrating so hard and Santana knows it's because she didn't know how to play the guitar so it would take a lot to focus on the strings now. There is a strand of pale hair falling over her forehead and down the front of her face, but Brittany ignores it in favor of the strings she's plucking. It isn't her usual type of song and Santana feels the first tears escape as that sweet voice fills the tiny dorm with its melody.

_Hey there, Santana, what's it like in New York City?_

_I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty,_

_Yes you do._

_Time Square can't shine as bright as you, I swear it's true._

She takes a deep breath, looks briefly up at the camera with a smile before focusing on the guitar again. Her brows are pinched together and there's a slightly nervous quiver to her voice as she sings. Santana wipes her cheeks, fingers touching the screen as if she could reach Lima, and Brittany, through it.

Hey there, Santana, don't you worry about the distance.

_I'm right there, if you get lonely, give this song another listen._

_Close your eyes. Listen to my voice, it's my disguise._

_I'm by your side._

_Oh, it's what you do to me… Oh, it's what you do to me._

On and on it goes, Santana's name replacing every single Delilah, making Santana smile every time she hears it. She's crying and smiling and her heart is beating with Brittany, Brittany, Brittany and she wishes now more than ever that her girlfriend could be here with her instead of in Lima, so far away.

Midway through the song, the video ends and a shocked Santana scrambles forward in her desk chair, wondering why it had stopped loading. But a glance shows her that it was the end of the video and she wonders if Brittany hadn't known the rest of the words or if she had run out of time or if…

But there's music.

Santana frowns, her head turning towards the hallway where the notes of the same song are drifting to her from outside the door. Instantly her heart starts to pound and she scrambles up from her desk, tossing herself across the room to open the door. And there is Brittany, strumming an acoustic guitar with that same warm, loving smile in place as she plucks the notes of her song. Her voice still holds that nervous quiver, but she seems to relax at the sight of her girlfriend standing there staring from her dorm room's door. Others have opened their rooms to see what's going on, but Santana doesn't notice. She only sees Brittany.

_A thousand miles seems pretty far_

_But they've got planes and trains and cars_

_I'd walk to you if there was no other way._

_Our friends would all make fun of us_

_And we'll just laugh along because_

_We know that none of them have felt this way…_

Brittany steps closer and Santana is trembling, tears etching curved paths down her cheeks until they meet the corners of her lips.

Santana, I can promise you

_That by the time that we get through_

_The world will never ever be the same_

_And you're to blame…_

They are all staring with blatant interest, but Santana doesn't care. Brittany is here and real and warm and sweet and she's missed her so much. The fact this isn't a dream amazes her when she pinches her own arms and feels the action sharply in her flesh. On and on Brittany sings until she finally gets to the end and the last _It's what you do to me _fades into the final chords and Brittany is finished. She smiles and sets the guitar down so the neck is propped against the wall, her weight shifting nervously from foot to foot when Santana doesn't say anything. "Hi," she whispers shyly at last.

And Santana launches herself forward into her arms, curling around her before fusing their lips. She doesn't care that people see, doesn't notice when people applaud. All she sees and smells and feels is Brittany and that's all that matters to her. "It's only five hundred and ninety miles," she can't help but say through laughter and tears and Brittany wipes her cheeks with that same I-love-you smile in place.

"I wouldn't care if you were on the moon, San," she whispers. "I'd still walk to see you if there wasn't a rocket to take me."

"I'd let you borrow my rocket," she returns before she pulls her lover into her room and shuts the door, opening it again only to retrieve the guitar.


End file.
